Authors: Cydney Michele; Rax Lutishia; Grant Lovely
Crush (10 page)
3
“Is that lipstick?” Reverend Beatrice Hallelujah Edwards, the world-renowned pastor of Save Your Soul Ministries, stared at her only child with hands on hips. “Lois Elaine Edwards, you know better.”
“It’s not really a color, just gloss,” Lois replied. It was amazing how in the presence of her fifty-year-old mother, a thirty-one-year-old woman could feel more like five. But that’s the way it had always been: Beatrice spoke, Lois listened. Though her mother was strict, Lois knew she loved her. Their bond was a close one. Lois had been born out of wedlock, and following her birth, Beatrice had given up everything to focus on God and her daughter’s welfare. Everyone Lois knew respected her mother, even Chaz, who claimed he was “spiritual, not religious.” He’d voiced this position during their singular meeting. Lois later learned that Beatrice had not been impressed.
Reverend Beatrice Edwards’s rules were followed without question. Lois agreed with these rules, for the most part. But for the past two days, since reading the anonymous letter sent to Chaz, Lois had begun looking at herself differently—viewing herself the way she imagined Chaz viewed her. While no one could fault her top-notch secretarial skills, Lois concluded that her feminine wiles were nonexistent. Since Monday morning, she’d watched Gina with a shrewd eye, hoping to glean a smidgeon of the sensuality she exuded by nature—not wanting to be sexy, you understand, but just enough to show Chaz, and remind herself, that she was a woman after all.
“You not out there man-hunting, are you?”
“No, ma’am.”
Reverend Edwards’s narrowed eyes continued to scrutinize Lois. Aside from the lip gloss, she couldn’t fault her daughter’s appearance: shoulder-length hair pulled back in a neat bun; conservative black suit, the skirt of which hung two inches below the knee; and a floral-print shell that hugged her daughter’s neckline. Still, a woman of God had to watch and protect her flock, especially her daughter. The devil was always busy....
Satisfied that her daughter had not been unfrocked, Reverend Edwards walked over and embraced Lois. “I’ll see you tonight at Bible study. You’re leading the praise and devotional, so spend some time with the Lord.”
“I will, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Lois placed a Mary Mary CD into the car stereo as she navigated traffic on the Dan Ryan Freeway. If she kept her mind on Jesus, she reasoned, it was less likely to stray to other things. Like the letter. So far, it appeared her boss’s prediction was accurate, and that the e-mail he was aware of and the letter of which he had no clue were one-time sends from some chick with a crush. Lois breathed a sigh of relief and looked forward to an evening service filled with prayer and praise.
Lois had arrived at her desk and begun sifting through the morning mail when her heartbeat stopped.
Another one.
The envelope looked the same: blank, white, addressed simply to Chaz Covington, Attorney-at-Law, in a bold Arial font. Lois’s first thought was to shred it, unopened. But then she remembered what Chaz had said two days prior:
If these e-mails turn into a form of harassment, I’ll want to have kept track of the evidence.
Another one.
The envelope looked the same: blank, white, addressed simply to Chaz Covington, Attorney-at-Law, in a bold Arial font. Lois’s first thought was to shred it, unopened. But then she remembered what Chaz had said two days prior:
If these e-mails turn into a form of harassment, I’ll want to have kept track of the evidence.
Lois placed the letter to the side, under a paper-laden accordion file folder. She forced herself to concentrate on the other mail and, after finishing this task, walked to the break room for a rare cup of coffee and a bagel. She wasn’t hungry, but was trying to postpone the inevitable—being tainted by the contents of the anonymous letter waiting at her desk, tainted by the nasty.
By the time she returned to her work station fifteen minutes later, Lois had convinced herself to not open the letter at all. She’d simply place the letter in a file, as Chaz had instructed. This decision lasted for all of five minutes. With her most pressing duties completed and her boss away at court, Lois’s thoughts zoomed like a laser to the paper that seemed to burn a hole through her desk top. She reached for the envelope and her letter opener and, after looking around to make sure no one was nearby, unfolded the paper and read its contents.
Dear Chaz,
I thought that if I wrote my feelings down on paper and mailed them to you, it would be enough. It isn’t. In fact, seeing my desire in the form of the written word only increased my ardor. I WANT YOU NOW!
If you were here, I’d strip naked. Then I’d remove your clothes. We’d take a long, leisurely bath, where I would get to know every inch of your perfect frame. After drying off, I’d allow my tongue to travel where my hands had been, from your toes to the top of your immaculately shorn head. I would suck, and lick, and explore some more. I imagine our kisses, hot and wet, as you plunge your massive manhood—
“Good morning, Lois.” Chaz’s voice was rich and deep and, Lois determined, entirely too close.
She gasped, hurriedly folded the paper, and turned around to face him. “M-Mr. Covington,” she stuttered, guilt written all over her face. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“The carpet soaks up footsteps fairly well,” Chaz said, a smile scampering across his face as he stated the obvious. “Besides, you seemed quite engrossed in whatever you were reading.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Lois’s mouth closed up tighter than a sprung mousetrap.
Chaz’s face remained neutral but inside his mind churned.
What is going on with you, Lois? You’ve been skittish all week.
His investigative instinct kicked into high gear. Chaz was determined to get to the bottom of his usually unflappable assistant’s rather flappable behavior.
What is going on with you, Lois? You’ve been skittish all week.
His investigative instinct kicked into high gear. Chaz was determined to get to the bottom of his usually unflappable assistant’s rather flappable behavior.
“Is this all of my mail?” he asked, picking up the neatly aligned stack in Lois’s outbox.
Lois simply nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.
“Great. I need to write a motion and wish not to be disturbed. Text me my schedule, and when I’m finished, I’ve several letters to dictate.”
“Okay.”
Lois waited until Chaz’s door closed. Then she hid the latest nasty note in her pocket and hurried to the employee restroom. By the time she opened the lavatory door, her hands were shaking and she was precariously near tears. She clumsily toyed with the lock on the stall, finally pushing it into place. She sat on the stool, took several deep breaths, and tried to calm down.
So much for keeping my mind on Jesus.
She knew she shouldn’t, but Lois couldn’t resist unfolding the paper and finishing the crude yet necessary task her boss had interrupted.
It’s my job to know what’s going on,
she told herself as she skimmed the part of the letter she’d already read.
I will protect him from wenches like these who are up to no good!
Lois took a deep breath and continued reading a letter that was almost twice as long as the first one that had been sent.
So much for keeping my mind on Jesus.
She knew she shouldn’t, but Lois couldn’t resist unfolding the paper and finishing the crude yet necessary task her boss had interrupted.
It’s my job to know what’s going on,
she told herself as she skimmed the part of the letter she’d already read.
I will protect him from wenches like these who are up to no good!
Lois took a deep breath and continued reading a letter that was almost twice as long as the first one that had been sent.
. . . as you plunge your massive manhood into my heat. We’ll make love for hours, and when we’re done and you’ve rested, we’ll begin again. I want to sip you like a fine wine, until you are thoroughly satisfied. You’ll gladly return the favor, your tongue a sword as it laps my nether nectar.
I am so hot for you, Chaz Covington. I don’t know if I can keep my identity a secret much longer. But how can I possibly reveal myself? Is it possible that you’ll be as attracted to me as I am to you? Maybe one day we’ll see. If dreams come true . . .
Lois only became aware of the tears as one fell from her cheek and plopped onto the paper. She shook herself, as if from a dream, and quickly brushed them away.
Why am I crying?
But she knew why. It was because of the writer’s audacity to pen such crude messages to an honorable, respectable man. Lois placed the paper back into her pocket, and exited the stall. After dabbing her eyes with a moistened paper towel, she straightened her suit jacket and then her shoulders, determined to carry out her duties as executive legal assistant to Chaz Reginald Covington.
He needs me now more than ever.
Lois knew that she could not, and would not, let him down.
And I will not let a piece of smut-filled paper get in my way!
Why am I crying?
But she knew why. It was because of the writer’s audacity to pen such crude messages to an honorable, respectable man. Lois placed the paper back into her pocket, and exited the stall. After dabbing her eyes with a moistened paper towel, she straightened her suit jacket and then her shoulders, determined to carry out her duties as executive legal assistant to Chaz Reginald Covington.
He needs me now more than ever.
Lois knew that she could not, and would not, let him down.
And I will not let a piece of smut-filled paper get in my way!
4
“Mrs. Smith!” Lois was surprised to return to her desk and find Delicia sitting in the mini sitting area directly across from her workstation. She was even more surprised at Delicia’s markedly changed appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“I know, I should have called first,” Delicia said, a slight hint of red creeping into her butterscotch complexion. “But I just wanted to drop off this thank-you gift to Mr. Covington. He was so kind to arrange that celebration on Monday, and I felt just horrible that I didn’t . . . thank him more properly.”
“He’s asked not to be disturbed. I’ll be glad to take the gift on his behalf.”
“Oh. Well, I . . .” Delicia nervously twisted her purse handle. “Of course he’d be busy. It’s just that I took the bus down here, and it will be a while before one comes that’s heading back to where I live. Do you think I could wait? Maybe he’ll take a break.”
“His schedule is pretty full.” Lois took in Delicia’s crestfallen face and continued. “But I guess it would be all right for you to wait a few minutes. If I get the opportunity, I’ll tell him you’re here. May I get you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
“Cream and sugar?”
Delicia nodded.
“Be right back.”
After watching Lois retreat down the hall, Delicia hungrily eyed the closed door to Chaz’s office. Since her father died in 1997, no one had cared for her the way Chaz Covington had. Thirty-eight years old, Delicia had been separated from a no-account husband for five years. The only thing that had stopped her from finalizing the divorce was money. But in a few short weeks she’d have more cash in her account than she’d ever dreamed possible, and soon after that, Delicia would be free.
Before her settlement, Delicia would never have considered herself worthy of someone like Chaz Covington. Not only was she poor, but she wasn’t your typical Barbie-doll beauty either. Delicia had junk in the trunk and years of fries on her thighs. During the trial, she’d been too focused on the case to care about her looks. This had probably worked to her advantage in gaining the jurors’ empathy. But things were different now. Life held newfound possibilities. Which is why she’d borrowed three hundred dollars from her sister to make sure she showed up for today’s visit in style. She wore a simple, navy, jersey knit dress (that, thanks to Spandex, hugged her size-sixteen curves in all the right places), three-inch pumps (that were killing her feet after missing her bus stop and having to walk back two blocks), and a fried, dyed, and laid to the side haircut (the first such style sans braids or weave since Outkast apologized to Ms. Jackson). When Delicia had left the small, two-bedroom apartment that she shared with an eighteen-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son, she felt pretty good about herself. But now, in the midst of the elegance that epitomized the Covington law offices, she wasn’t so sure she could ever belong.
Lois eyed Mrs. Smith as she brought back her coffee on a tray containing cream, sugar, and a choice of pastries. She saw the apprehensive way this former client eyed her boss’s door, and her stomach clenched.
Of course! I should have known!
Lois found the thought of this overweight woman being interested in her boss repugnant. She’d always seen Delicia Smith as a struggling, middle-aged single mother who’d been dealt a raw hand, and for whom Mr. Covington had sought and found justice. Now Lois was beginning to see something else. When another thought popped into her head, Lois almost dropped the tray she carried.
Of course! I should have known!
Lois found the thought of this overweight woman being interested in her boss repugnant. She’d always seen Delicia Smith as a struggling, middle-aged single mother who’d been dealt a raw hand, and for whom Mr. Covington had sought and found justice. Now Lois was beginning to see something else. When another thought popped into her head, Lois almost dropped the tray she carried.
“Oh! Are you all right?” Delicia asked, as she hurriedly placed a steadying hand on the tray, before taking it from Lois and placing it on the coffee table.
“I’m fine, just, um, stumbled.”
You wrote the letters. That’s why you’re here!
Lois turned and walked to her desk, lest her expression betray the sudden contempt she felt for a woman she’d once pitied—and whom Lois realized that with this new look was not only rather attractive, but maybe not as old as she’d first believed.
You wrote the letters. That’s why you’re here!
Lois turned and walked to her desk, lest her expression betray the sudden contempt she felt for a woman she’d once pitied—and whom Lois realized that with this new look was not only rather attractive, but maybe not as old as she’d first believed.
I’ve got to get her out of here.
After giving Delicia five minutes to eat her donut and drink a third of the coffee, Lois took action. “Mrs. Smith, I hate to rush you, but I shouldn’t have told you it was all right to stay. It’s really impossible to see Mr. Covington without an appointment, so if you’d—”
After giving Delicia five minutes to eat her donut and drink a third of the coffee, Lois took action. “Mrs. Smith, I hate to rush you, but I shouldn’t have told you it was all right to stay. It’s really impossible to see Mr. Covington without an appointment, so if you’d—”
“Lois, I need the petitions that we filed on the Scott case,” Chaz began, as he barreled out of his office.
“Mr. Covington!” Delicia said breathlessly as she stood.
Chaz turned around. “Delicia! What a surprise. And don’t you look lovely.” He walked over with an outstretched hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I know I shouldn’t have come without calling, but”—Delicia reached down for her purse—“I have a gift for you, just a small token of my appreciation. I was just getting ready to give it to Lois to give to you. She said I needed to make an appointment. . . .”
“That’s normally true. But I make exceptions.” Chaz winked at Delicia, causing her legs to almost buckle beneath her. Chaz looked at his watch. “I have a couple minutes. Step into my office.”
If looks could kill, Lois would have faced murder charges for the daggers she shot at Delicia’s retreating back before Chaz closed the door. She opened her desk drawer, pulled out the newly created file marked “Miscellaneous—N” (“n” for nasty, of course) and fingered the lone paper inside. So far, Lois had thought Gina, ex-wife Jennifer Covington, or socialite Elizabeth Stein was behind the notes. But now she knew that another suspect’s name needed to be added to the list.
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